"Hi there, I'm looking for some roses for my wife, it's our ten-year anniversary tomorrow, and I was looking to get her something special," the middle aged man said, reaching into his wallet to pull out a bunch of crisp dollar bills.

Derek Hale smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and ran a hand over the light stubble on his chin.

"And what colour roses would you like, sir?" he asked, his voice deep, but friendly.

"Red."

"Certainly, just one moment."

Derek stood up, and walked into the back room. And sighed. The whole room was full to the brim with every flower imaginable. Bright blue forget-me nots lined one wall, and right next to them were bundles of foxgloves and tulips. Where the hell were the red roses?

"Roses… roses…" he muttered, sifting through daffodils and irises, keeping his eyes peeled for a speck of ruby red.

He turned around, and his broad shoulder caught on a large cardboard box full of flower feed, knocking it to the ground and spilling sachets of 'Green & Healthy' across the already littered floor.

"Shit," he muttered, bending down to pick them up, and hitting his head on a protruding wooden shelf in the process. Ouch. That bloody hurt.

"Everything all right in there, buddy?" he heard the man call out.

"Um hmm, yep, just fine," Derek managed to reply through gritted teeth, rubbing his throbbing temple with one hand, and balancing himself with the other.

He continued to wade his way through petunias and lilies, to finally find a large stack of red roses hidden behind a pot of delilahs.

"Found you…"

He was really going to have to organise his inventory.

"How many would you like, sir?" He called out, his voice slightly muffled by the multitude of flowers around him, "We do a special deal, ten flowers for five dollars."

"Oh, well, go on then, I'll take ten." He heard the man's reply.

"Ten red roses…" Derek muttered to himself, counting out the flowers and bringing them out to the front of the shop, arranging them in coloured plastic and tying them with a red ribbon.

"Here you go sir, that'll be five dollars, please."

The man payed, smiled, and left the shop, and Derek let out a huge sigh, slumped back into his chair, and slammed his head into the desk, rubbing a hand through his dark hair.

He was exhausted.

Even with the extra help that he had hired over the past few weeks, he had been up most nights trying to balance the books. Of course, getting his own flower shop had been a dream come true when it had happened, but as the years went by, he had found that it was a lot harder to manage than he had thought. He was often forced to work 12 hours a day, 7 days a week, meaning that any relationship he had attempted to have had eventually nose-dived into the dirt. He had no time for love anymore.

"Hey, boss, you okay?"

He lifted his head up, his green eyes meeting with hazel, as he saw Erica looking down at him with a worried expression, her blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. He had hired Erica about three weeks ago, and he had to admit that having another face around every day had helped him to stay sane.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm fine…" he mumbled, looking up at her.

"You've got a little..." she gestured to his head, and Derek lifted his hand to it. It came away red. Shit. He'd knocked it looking for the roses, and must have split the skin. Could this day get any worse?

"Oh, I'm fine, honestly," he said, dabbing at the blood with a tissue.

"If you're sure, boss." Erica said, though she didn't sound convinced, "Got any jobs for me?"

"Please, call me Derek," he said, "And actually, there is something that you could help me with..."

"Ok I've got six bunches of petunias here,"

Derek looked up from the hydrangeas he was organising into a pot, before ticking them off on the list on his clipboard.

"Um… petunias, petunias… could you put them there next to the primulas."

Erica placed the bundles on the shelf, and Derek crossed them off his inventory. The two had been organising the flowers in the storage room for the last three hours, and it finally appeared as if they were getting somewhere.

"Tea break?" asked Erica, and Derek slumped down next to a basket of ribbon and nodded.

"I'll put the kettle on."

Erica walked from the room into the small kitchen at the back of the storage room, humming to herself, and Derek allowed himself the first rest he had had all day.

His eyes were just closing when he heard a low voice from the front of the shop.

"Um, hi? Is anyone here?"

A loud groan came from Derek. He considered just staying hidden and leaving the customer to make his own way out, but eventually thought better of it, and pushed himself up from the pollen-covered floor, to see that his clothing was totally covered in pollen. Bollocks.

Dusting the orange powder off his trousers, he stepped out into the front of the shop, standing behind the counter.

"Hello?" he said out loud, looking for the source of the intrusion.

"Oh hi," came the voice from behind a bouquet of lilies.

A slim man stepped out from behind the flowers, his hands nervously tucked into the pockets of his skinny jeans, and his white shirt hung expertly from his narrow shoulders, hugging his torso. He was young, Derek noted, around 25. Not unattractive either. He was pale, clean shaven, and his clear face was dotted with moles. Moles that Derek, for some reason, desperately wanted to lick.

A blush crept up Derek's face. Where the hell had that come from? The poor guy was probably just here to pick up some flowers for his girlfriend or something, for God's sake.

Derek realised he was staring, slightly too late, and his face broke out into his 'customer' smile, the joy not reaching his tired eyes.

"How can I help you today, sir?" he asked, valiantly trying to prevent his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

"Oh, um, I'm looking for some white roses, please." The man replied, and Derek nodded.

"Lucky girl…" he muttered, turning to go through the door into the inventory.

"Pardon?" asked the customer, and Derek froze.

Shit.

He had heard him.

"Oh, um, I was just saying that she's lucky… your girlfriend… what with a guy buying her roses and all…"

Derek could have been sucked into a hole in the floor at that moment, and it would have been preferable to having to look back at white-shirt man with a face he was sure was brick red.

The guy chuckled, and Derek's hear skipped a beat. Holy shit, he was 28, not 18, he should NOT be this nervous in front of a guy.

"No girlfriend," the man replied, "these are for my mom, actually."

"Oh, lovely," replied Derek, trying to stop himself from grinning like an idiot. So he was unattached. That was good.

Derek nodded again awkwardly before turning around, and walking into the storage room, to see Erica leaning against large stack of cardboard boxes, a cup of tea in her hand and an evil grin on her face.

"Who's that?" she asked innocently.

"A customer, who does it look like?" answered Derek sharply, instantly finding the white roses. Organising the inventory had truly done wonders.

"His girlfriend would be lucky eh?" Erica continued, a smirk spreading across her pixie-like features.

"Fuck off." Derek replied simply, leaving her giggling to herself as he exited the room back into the front of the store, a large bunch of white roses in his hands.

"How many would you like? We have a deal at the moment. Ten flowers for-"

"Five dollars, yeah, I saw the poster outside," replied white-shirt man, grinning.

Derek smiled with him, and counted out the roses, taking the five dollars and putting it in the till.

"What did you do to your head?" white-shirt asked, gesturing to the gash in Derek's forehead.

"I had an argument with a shelf" Derek deadpanned, and a burst of laughter escaped from white-shirt's mouth. The sound was so infectious that Derek couldn't help but grin as well.

"Well I hope you won," white-shirt replied, lifting up his flowers and taking a deep inhale, smelling them.

Jesus, Derek was struggling not to leap over the desk and jump him there and then.

"And by the way, my name's Stiles."

And with that, white-shirt gave a last smile, turned around, and sauntered out of the shop., the roses grasped tightly in his right hand.

Something told Derek that his job was about to get a hell of a lot more interesting.